


Addiction

by Ruth_McKean



Category: Death Note
Genre: Abandonment Issues, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Drug Use, Drug Withdrawal, F/M, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Matt-Centric, Slut Shaming, Triggers, imparied narrative, sex work (not the main characters)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-05
Updated: 2013-11-05
Packaged: 2017-12-31 13:33:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1032282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ruth_McKean/pseuds/Ruth_McKean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I stopped caring what happened to my mind the day he left." </p>
<p>The aftermath of Mello's abandonment; the long road down to hell and back again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Addiction

**Author's Note:**

> Written under another name from another site. I tried to fix it up, it's just a little Matt-centric fic that I still like to look back at and read. I hope you enjoy it. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note, nor do I make any sort of profit from this writing.

I listen to the words flowing over my skin, the beat making my body move on its own accord.

I stopped caring what happened to my mind the day he left.

I stopped caring about my body the day my parents left me to die on the floor.

These drugs really got a hold on me now; he used to be the only high in my life.

But when he left, I just grabbed whatever came.

I fumble with my lighter, hoping it will still spark in my useless hands.

I hear a voice calling out to me, I stumble into the hallway, a woman pulling at my shirt some more. I pull away and suddenly find myself throwing up all that I _hadn't_ eaten the past few days.

When's the last time I ate?

Ha, eating...living, being happy.

I think the last time I smiled was-well, a minute ago, recalling his face...but my eyes, they aren't smiling happy anymore, he used to say...

_Something…_

Something to do with my eyes, I think…

I know what I want to say, but now she's sitting in my lap, touching me through my jeans.

I don't want to, but I gotta stay in the present or else I'll think of him all night.

Maybe this blonde is my blonde, her eyes are blue too...but they are just as red and fucked as my own.

Mel? Mel, is that you?

She screams that her name isn't Melissa, but doesn't stop riding me...I don't feel it, I wonder if she does.

Good thing I managed to put that condom on, holy fuck.

I think my phones ringing...I wonder who chose to play such a weird tone like that on my phone...was it me?

My mind wanders off to strange corners.

'Hello, hah-hellah?" my words are slurred, did I actually speak out loud there? A loud voice calls to me from the phone, too loud, too painful.

"Mel? I can almost hear...ha, Mel?" I hear a louder yell in my ear, laughing I push that slut off of me. Doing up my pants, hopefully. I keep walking as she throws something at me, another empty bottle, it smashes near my head...I feel a bit of blood on my arm, warm and dripping...the bit of alcohol attached to the glass making the small cuts burn...I barely feel it, let alone acknowledge it.

The walls tremble; I think that they may be melting like my face, my brain, my life.

" _MATT! Answer me, what's wrong with you?"_

"Are you sure it's you, Mel...sometimes I hear that, and it’s...ha, is that you?" I giggle, uncertain.

I trip over something, a person on the ground. They are bleeding, a long gash on their head, vomit streaming from their mouth. I pat them on the shoulder; they moan... _sucks to be you._ Heh, I have a few scars from shit like that.

" _Matty, tell me where you are. I'll come get you, okay? Just answer me!"_

"Hey Mel...remember that day? It was—I don't know, years ago. I told you...I told it in my head. Then you left me, member that? I remember, everyday...but it'll be-hmm, nice. It’ll be nice to find you someday." Silence, silence...I knew it, just another little gift from the drugs...it felt so real, too.

Always does.

A pretty place, gone to such a nice place.

Maybe I'll go home and he'll be there and I won’t let him go this time, I'll tell him everything.

I pass another girl on the streets, blond-ish this time. I lean into her, kissing her...she pushes me away laughing...

'Fifty bucks.' she calls to me. I ask her if she's got anything, she says twenty this time...I pay her, laughing she leans in and slips something in my mouth using her pierced tongue.

I kiss her longer than necessary, slipping her some more money.

I lick her mouth, and whisper to her.

"Mel, can you hear me now? I'm here...why aren't you here?" the girl nods and responds to the name, as if its hers...I enjoy it. I hear him screaming in my head, and then suddenly she's pulling back and talking into a phone that looks like mine.

" _If you tell me where you are right now, I'll give you that fifty bucks. I'll give you a hundred if you don't fuck 'em, but keep him with you..."_ I hear the words, see her nodding her head and negotiating a price, two-fifty and she's won over. She smiles and pockets my money, she pushes the phone into my jeans...rubbing me on her way.

"You've been naughty, haven't you? Your friend on the phone told me you name, Myers. You can call me Mel. Call out to me, M." I groan into her touch, imagining her face into his...wishing, wishing and something in the back of my mind screams...something.

Like that voice on the phone, his voice.

I laugh as her lips come up and kiss my neck, her lipstick smudging on my shirt. It’s covered in my own vomit, and probably a few other stains I don't even care to identify.

I feel my world starting to morph again, the stuff she slipped me earlier is finally mingling with whatever I took before. She looks at me strangely, a bit of panic on her almost pretty face.

"Myers? What did you take before? _Hey!_ Shit—stop it, fucking puke it up, okay? He's coming and he won’t pay me if you die! Fuck!" She's rambling, my mind is crashing.

He's coming? For me… or for her? I giggle, imagining Mello with a Mello lookalike, some slut who doesn't ever measure up.

I could be his slut.

I'd be his anything.

I speak it all out loud, the girl nodding and keeping me talking. Making sure I don't die before she gets her money? Or maybe she just doesn't want me to die in front of her? Fair enough. I hate watching people die; not because I necessarily care about any of them, but because it’s just so messy.

Fuck, is she dying?

I see the world spinning, her eyes blurring up...or am I blurring up?

_Hello?_

Oh shit, these drugs really got me going.

That looks like him, paying that slut I just paid.

"Aren't you gonna take me somewhere? I want to just feel him again..." I stroke my hands down his face. What happened?

"You got all prettier and I didn't even get into a new shirt for you."

He shudders under my hand, hey- _where did my gloves go?_ Fuck!

"I would've, if you had called." I'm almost sure that my words make sense, I think. I study the beauty before me.

"Mello?" the word comes out strong; I realize my thoughts have been leaking out.

"What did you take? _What did you take,_ Matt?" I laugh, the question sounds familiar... didn't that slut just ask me, oh god...are you that slut?

"Oh my god, you look just like him. I'd tell you a secret—but he might get mad...then he'll go again, but I promise you. It's not bad, okay? I won’t go anywhere when he comes back-you'll come back yeah?" Someone pulls me to a car, it's a nice car. It looks like mine, is it mine?

"You didn't have to, I'm fine...they got me here, next to you, heh." My breath smells, I can taste it now, I can feel my tongue so much...it’s heavy. I taste chocolate and leather, _nice._

"Would you give me some more, it’s like he's here...my Mel. When we were little—he would touch my hair when I was sleeping and he always thought I never knew. But I did...I didn't leave him, not even when my parents came back for me. I-I can't leave Mello, so come back to me." the words make my voice break, tears leak down my dirty face.

I hold up my hands to see them, I see a few scars on the back of my hands... from another _accident._

I laugh a bit, my tongue tasting salt on top of the chocolate and leather and shampoo.

Did I just get face fucked by some guy or are those my tears? I remember going down on my first guy, he was blonde too...I only ever got with blondes. I didn't want to, but I wanted my hit-he let me pay the price that way.

Shaking away that memory, added to a pile of unthinkable.

I feel a bottle in my hands, I take a sip. Water. Pure water, water-clean and making my mouth taste better...I no longer feel the burn of thirst and vomit. My teeth feel strangely clean even though I know they aren't.

I let my hand wander to the driver; I know what he wants...what I want. I just want my next hit of Mello and he always really had a hold on me, the biggest and best hold.

"What's wrong? None of it matters, just… I gotta pay you. Okay?" My words wander off again, I felt a pant leg...leather pants? My hands tingle, my tongue is still so sensitive. I lean over, my seat belt off already...I feel my hands gripping beautiful hair, clean and soft.

"You taste like him." I whisper, or shout...or something. He doesn't respond much, I must've just whispered then. I lick his neck gently, his moan making me hard. I don't remember anyone ever being this real to him, it’s almost too good. I nip at the neck, biting hard; making sure the hallucination will walk away with my mark.

"You left me, remember? But I'll keep you... mmhm, so close. I won’t let you go—I'll _kill you_ first, 'fore you kill me. _Fuck."_ I let my hands run down a slim chest, an arm getting in my way, I go around. I pull down a cold zipper, touching a warm chest.

"Matt. Please, no." I hear his voice whimper, a cold splat on my arm—are those tears?

"Am I crying again, Mello?" he turns his head to look at me, my voice sounding so sober in that moment. He's crying, not me...his blue eyes, the real ones...they are reddened and leaking salt water. Proof of life.

I lean up to taste them; I feel the car jerk over to a stop.

I taste his tears, kissing each eye as I reach them. His eyelids are soft, pretty even.

Heh, pretty eye-lids...only _Mello_ would have pretty eyelids.

"We're home...let's go up, okay Matt?" he talks calmly, I nod, not letting go of him. He pulls me out of his door, knowing I won’t let up on my grip.

I am just about to go into a door when I feel the need to throw it all up, I push away his arms... falling against a cold wall. The feeling is in my chest, my blood boils.

I throw up behind a bush, beside the door, it’s all liquid. There is nothing more than bile and vodka in my stomach...that and a lot of other shit that shouldn't ever be in a body.

I put it all in, hoping one day something would replace him.

"It got me standing h-here, next-t-to you. I l-loved you s-so much..." I stammer at the wall, my forehead touching just one brick among many. My shirt is coming off now. I'm too hot, but my teeth are chattering as if I'm cold. I don't want that perfume on me anymore, fucking sluts. Or maybe I'm the fucking slut.

That mix of hollow people and sperm, fucking puke and blood, sweat and pot.

I'm here, _I'm home_...didn't he say home?

"We're home. I'm home-hahah, home alone...always there, alone. At home." I sing to myself, someone pulls at my arms, and there’s that smell again...chocolate.

"I drank your tears." I tell the arms, they are strong and shake me a bit to get me to concentrate on walking straight.

"Matt, I don't get it. I don't get it at all, can you even hear me?"

The world becomes startlingly bright when a door opens and closes, a moment of knowing that fogs over quickly.

"Loud and clear, gold leader." I smile at the voice, my eyes are heavy now. I just want to feel warm; I hug at the body next to me. It responds, surprisingly, I haven't even paid it yet.

Paid it to feel.

Paid it to feel _real._

"Let me help you?" the question wakes me up a bit, I nod. I feel more tears on my face. My hands move to take my own pants off. I walk around a bit, not taking much in; picking up a pillow and an old leather bound book, written in Russian. A chocolate wrapper, familiar; I keep it in my hands, even when he tries to take it.

"He's mine!" I scream, he backs away, letting me win this round.

My grin is brittle and almost hurts my face, but I wear it til it no longer burns.

I fall onto a bed, a large one. Almost-clean sheets that smell like sweet sweat, chocolate and sleep.

I used to sleep in his bed when he left me, and for a week it had smelled just like this.

Leather permeates the space, I kept a few of his shirts...hoping he'd come back for them, not for me...but for his fucking clothes.

He didn't.

Not even for his precious leather fucking clothes.

Screw it, I need to sleep or piss or fucking drink.

I don't know, I need him...but he isn't real.

I pass out, not sure if I'm actually on that bed.

Maybe I'm back at home, at Wammy's, or with my parents.

Who came for me, they came back for me and asked for my love again years after leaving me to rot...but I didn't need them.

And they didn’t deserve me, not after the pain they put me through.

Besides, he already had a hold on me, like they never did.

* * *

I dream that I feel his hands on my body, a cold cloth washing my old skin away. Bringing me new life with his touch, making me shed all of the disgusting sins I had committed in the time since he had left me.

I feel his lips at my face, his arms around me as I thrash around on the bed.

Days pass, or maybe minutes...

I hear the sun setting; I hear it and feel the burn of it on my eyes. I scream as they bleed and my skin—it begins to shake—and my fingers ache and I just wish for something to make it all _go away_ like it used to when I would use, when I would stuff myself full of anything to escape everything. I just want _more_ to this life than what I have right now.

FUCK!

"Let me out, Mello!" I scream out loud to any god that exists. I feel hands on me, reassuring and cold...another wet cloth on my slick and dying skin.

I lash out at the kindness, hating it for being so nice.

My flesh rebels in the movements, but I need the pain more than the relief.

"I HATE YOU! _I hate you_ , fuck! Where are you? Come back—" I fall back down, I feel torn skin underneath my fingernails, I'm happy...it means I got a piece of him.

* * *

Hours later, days, years...how long _has_ it been?

I hold the hand that is offered to me.

I kiss it, holding it as if it’s precious but something poisonous—I love poison—I put that shit in my veins, in my throat, in my nose…All of it into my broken body. I feel a needle pierce my skin, but it’s okay-I've gotten used to that strange bite of metal and the burn...but the burn doesn't come.

Did he just take my blood away? I feel like a dried out bit of husk: broken, dirty and decaying.

I would've kept it clean for him, if he had asked.

But he didn't, he just left me.

I wonder what he thought, did he ever think of me?

I feel the presence back, I open my eyes...it’s so bright.

I thought the sun had already exploded. Didn't the world already _end_ before?

I thought I remembered the apocalypse, it felt like the first day of fall; cool, warm, dead, alive.

'Baby, is that you?' a voice, gentle...like I always wanted. Mom? Mom, is that you? I used to listen to you cry...you cried _so much_. I used to hate you when you cried, and I was all alone. You never thought about what it did to me, but it didn’t have to end this way. I would have let you in, if only you let me out of that hell.

* * *

"Matt. It's been a few days, you've gotta eat something...okay? Sit up and I'll feed you some broth. Sit up, Matty." I listen to the velvet honey voice, the singeing rough, the burning in my ears... it’s heaven.

"I listened to him study out loud; just cos…he was so _serious_. And I always wanted him to talk like that, just for me. I was so selfish, so he went away. I think I should've let go—or-or held on tighter, you know?" I ask the kind person who is feeding me with a shaking hand.

Usually the faces all look the same, but right now I feel like my body is fading away and my mind is playing so many games. Like the ones I used to play; buttons mashing, the little tinny music playing on in the background of so many of our conversations. You left, and I turned the games off. They didn’t make sense any more.

Game Over.

The world sharpens again as my thoughts once more turn to the blonde before me. I can’t help but study him, look for similarities that my tired mind and soul create to keep me sane.

"You really do look like him." I rub my hands down his arms, he closes his eyes at the touch, spoon faltering. Bowl put down with a sharp noise as hands become unstable. I sip at the yellowish liquid on the large spoon, it tastes good. His eyes are burning blue; a small bit of the soup escapes my mouth, running down my chin.

I ignore the loss, focused on the sight of that gaze...watching me, studying me, so serious.

"Say something again. Mello, say my name again." I say to him, he flinches when I say the alias closest to his heart. I look at him, so seriously, on my end for a change. His thumb brushes the wasted broth off of my chin, his hand coming up to lick it off in his own mouth.

Then suddenly, I'm pushing him back and claiming that mouth with my own. He sputters and almost pushes me away, but I pin his arms down with strength that shouldn't exist. But he makes me stronger, real strong—not that false strong that the drugs always fill me with, but—something real, something old and true.

"Love you." I speak against warm flesh, tongue working and mouth sucking against a neck. I want him to always have my mark on him. I bite down; he moans. I keep biting till I taste blood. He'll always have this mark on his neck.

" _I'll kill you, if you leave me_." I speak again; he mumbles something back that sounds a lot like 'I know, Matt.'

"Again," I ask, my hands fumbling with his shirt, a plain tee with a little hole near the bottom of it.

"Matt, my Matty." his voice is so sad, so sad and so _Mello._

My heart beats faster, I lay down against his bare chest. Kissing and listening to his beautiful heart beat. I almost believe that this is him, could it be though? Did he finally come back for his old stuff-that poster and those few shirts? Cause I still have them...somewhere at my apartment, wherever that is.

I stop my kissing and wrap my arms around him, my tired body needing peaceful sleep that only comes with being in his presence. He rubs his hands through my hair, like he always used to and that's when I know it's really him, my Mello. He came back, for me.

* * *

More time passes, days gone. Minutes wasted letting my body reject all that had built up within me. I cried out for so much in that time, for Mello, for drugs, for death...anything to _make it all stop._

_Pleasegodletitend!_

_I just want it, I’ll never do it again, just one more hit, just one—it hurts, it hurts—I’m dying, why are you killing me again, Mel?_

_Just stop it! It hurts, mum! It HURTS…_

_Just help me, Mello! MEL?!_

_MELLO!_

* * *

Until one day, I woke up and it felt different. I felt new.

"Matt. It's time to get up, you stink." I laugh and my eyes open up wide and bright. I spring up as if it’s Christmas morning—and maybe it is—and maybe baby Jesus feels generous, finally giving an almost-orphan like me a break, giving me _him_.

I'll keep him safe, God. I promise you, I'll hold him tight and he'll let me stay. _Please._

"I'm sorry." I apologize to the perfect man before me, cos he grew up just like me.

It’s been years. I feel it on my skin, the time that has passed without him, it clouded my eyes and clogged my veins. Time and poison, feeding off my slowly dying body. The drugs were gonna catch up with me sooner or later, in fact...before he got me, that probably would've been my final night.

He came to save me, just like I had always dreamed.

But it’s better than that, he didn't push me away when I kissed him, when I told him, well, anything that I told him. I don't remember all the words that probably fell from my mouth, not over the last few days or years. But I know it was nothing that would endanger him; I never spoke those words; his name, anything about L, or Near, or Wammy's. Or even my real name. I kept it all locked away, not unlocking them for even a moment, years of training keeping me in line, all to keep him safe...I'll _always_ keep him safe.

"Don't be sorry, Matt. Just get in the shower. I'll change the sheets before you get out." I nod and hobble off, away from the stinking room that I had been going through hell in. I wander to the bathroom, which I only now realize is painted a nice green colour, almost like my eyes- _sans drugs._

I take off my clothes; feel the fabric fall from my body. I look into the mirror; my hair is greasy and sticking up all over. I have dark circles under my eyes that make me reminisce about L and Near. I giggle at the idea of sitting like the two weirdos that I love.

I turn on the shower and feel the grime leaving my skin. My greasy hair being cleaned, the dirt under my nails being scrubbed out. All of those girls and guys, those strangers, their sickness and emptiness, their touching-all of it is finally fading away. I notice the fresh hole in my skin, covered by a small band-aid and not at all bruised up like the ones I usually had.

So he _had_ taken my blood? Probably to test me for diseases...wouldn't blame him, I didn't know what I could have: maybe I have it all, but hopefully not.

I get out of the shower, feeling so much better— _alive and almost whole_ —and completely clean.

I glance in the mirror again, I notice how much I can see my ribs. They seem to poke out of me, so much more than they used to. I have no meat anywhere; I'm all skin and bones, all scars and dust. Where did my blood go? Or is that it there? I call out to Mello, needing to know I'm okay, still breathing.

"What's up?" he asks as he walks into the room. I pull off my goggles, which somehow got back on my neck. I like them with me always.

He blushes as he sees my entire form again, his eyes cloud up when he sees how damaged I am, how skinny and bruised and broken...so _done, game over._

"I'm sorry." I say again, looking at my own body, hating myself for not being good enough for him, or else he wouldn't have left.

I feel hands on my chest, on my heart. I feel lips at my neck, on my cheeks, tasting tears away. I see him pull back a bit and his eyes are burning blue again—the hottest fire, the strongest killer and the best way to die. He whispers into my ear, words making my body light up with that fire.

" _I drank your tears._ " I remember those words...from the night he found me and it feels...like forever ago. _How long_ has _it been?_

I stop thinking of time when he nips at my neck again.

Overdosing on Mello—it's the only way to fly.

I laugh and he leans forward to capture that sound with his mouth. I pull back and undress his body, wanting to simply feel flesh on my own skin.

His body has been marred since we were kids, so has mine...but while mine made me look damaged, his made him into more of a tragic beauty rather than just a beauty. I was jealous at how good he could look, but didn't want any of it for myself, I wanted him to be the light of my life...and he was like an angel.

His face and left side had been burned up a bit, I had noticed...but it didn't matter. It just added to his look. And it was true that all Wammy kids were messed up, we just were. Mental scars, emotional scars, physical ones...we all had them.

But Mello made them look _beautiful._

He lifts my face up with gentle fingers, I stare into his eyes and finally it hits me just like before— _this is really real._

I'm kissing him, hard. Feeling real, so very real in this moment.

His hands slide down my body, his mouth following behind slowly—tongue leaving a trail of life behind. Maybe this is his way of saying I'm not as dirty as I think? Or his way of cleaning away the filth I let accumulate while he was gone? I guess the blood test came back negative— _thank the gods_.

"I love you, Matt." His words make my heart freeze and the rest of my body boil; suddenly I'm starving worse than before; I need him, it’s no longer a matter of wanting.

I consume his lips, his tongue in my mouth. I pull him to me tightly, I push him towards the door, towards the bedroom. I'm not forgetting the way he left; I'm not forgiving myself for all these years of destruction, or him for leaving me to rot alone.

"You know you still...haven't told me why you left like you did. I-I thought it was me." I whispered, trying so hard to make the complaint inaudible, but he stopped. He heard me, he heard and sighed deeply. I didn't want to ruin this, but I just _needed_ to know.

"It wasn't you, Matt. I… I missed you, _so much_. But...I'm gonna need some time to explain it fully to you, and if you don't want to wait— ". I kiss his sentence to a stop, I _need_ to know this, but not right now. I've waited so many years just to hear him say he loved me, to know he really did care: excuses and explanations, they could wait. But this, this couldn't wait. My body had been slowly dying, and now _finally_ my saving grace had come back.

I'm _healing_ , under his touch...under his lips. I feel my way down his body; I'm putting his cock into my mouth; sucking hard, then gentle, just listening to his whimpers and moans. I am captivated by his smell, by his flesh, by his warmth. He pulled me up, his blue eyes burning, searching for something in my own green ones.

"Matt...Before we, I mean… I don't want you to be high while we're doing this, but...I don't want to stop." I nodded, trying to collect my thoughts. I wasn't high, not on drugs, not anymore.

"I'm not, Mello, I'm not on anything...I-it’s all gone. I'm clean; you know...I'm clean." I grinned at him, my green eyes clearer and more lust filled than they had been in years. It was like the past forever had been just a dream, but one that was still there. He nodded, his arms wrapping around me.

"I've been here almost the entire time, but I just had to make sure you didn't take anything else. I-I'm sorry." He's looking so good, all sweaty and wet from my just showered body pressed against his body. His beautiful skin flushed and tinged pink from my attentions, from lust. I want to consume the rest of him, his entire being...make it all mine.

I'm pushing him down onto the bed, nipping at his chest. Rubbing thighs, grinding bodies. Painful and yet, bittersweet and soft. I don't know whose making which noises, we're so loud— _I'm_ so loud. He takes my hand up to his mouth, kissing each digit, my palm. Sucking in fingers; my index, middle, ring...

"Unngh-Mello...are—are you sure?" he's pushing my hand down his body, I feel my first finger entering him. It’s so strange, I'm nervous as if it’s my first time all over again. He, well, he looks nervous too—wait, _is this his first time_ , for _real?_ Oh God, Mello...

"Is it— _this_ _is_ —your first time?" I laugh as he blushes, more than from just lust.

"Shut up, Matt. It just never came up." I giggle into his ear, moving my finger around in him, teasing.

I pause long enough to rummage around for some lubricant in his bedside drawer.

"Don't worry; I'll make it worth the wait." A second finger scissoring within his lithe body, easier now with the lube, and my hand is playing with a nipple; my mouth on his, swallowing his moans. Finally he's relaxing, my third finger in him: searching, searching. This is like nothing I've ever felt before, no drug can compare with my Mello. A bundle of nerves makes him squirm and moan louder beneath me.

"Matt—just, do it already!" He's whiny, forceful. Really he’s just the same old Mel, only with a hint of submissiveness thrown into his larger than life personality. Blue eyes are looking up at me: lusty and demanding, but begging me, maybe even _wanting_ me as much as I want him. I look around for something to help make this—especially if this _is_ his first time—easier. I push the pillow under his body, and put more lube on. I look down into his eyes, searching for his full attention.

"I love you too, Mello." Then I'm pushing into him, waiting, suspended in a moment that feels like dying and breathing in the coldest winter air all at once, like life—I’m holding back from pushing in too fast, or pulling out and ramming back into him. I’m suddenly stopping because I want him to feel good, not used. He's not another fuck and run for drugs, he's not an escape screw so that I won’t have to face the night alone. He's Mello.

A category all of his own.

"Finally, fuck." I laugh, his impatience is almost endearing. I give him a second, getting used to the intrusion, pulling back to slam back into him, without warning he's moving against me. Making the most wonderful noises, its then that I give it all up _for him_ —all the drugs, all the booze, all of those people I'd escaped into, allowed into my flesh, but never any deeper—I'd always have given it all up for him, he just had to come back.

As we drive each other over the edge, I feel tears on my face and almost feel stupid. But Mello's looking up at me, rubbing them away, touching my arms, pulling me close and whispering to me over and over again. He loves me. Loves _me._

After some time he begins to speak, I'm almost asleep and miss some of his words.

"—But Matt...I have, I have to leave and I—" My heart stops, my entire world beginning to shake, the foundations once again being tested; this second rejection will _destroy_ me. There will be no chances to get clean, no going back. I interrupt him before he can finish.

"What? You're leaving me? _Again?_ " He's pulling me back to look him in the eyes, his eyes full of anger. Does he think it’s so selfish that I want him to stay?

"Let me finish, would you? I'm going, leaving the country and I want you to come with me. But we might not be coming bac-" he doesn't have a chance to finish his sentence, my mouth once more claiming his. Thanking him for taking me, not leaving me again...my heart is still beating painfully in my chest, fear fading slowly in me. I pull back and slug him in the arm; he glares at me, questions in his eyes.

"What the hell was that for?" I laugh at his indignation, and his pout; he rubs his deceptively slim-strong arm a bit.

" _That_ was for scaring the shit out of me, you should've said something sooner...I thought I was really gonna have to go through on my threat of killing you." I laugh a bit more, but I think somewhere in me I'm not joking. He doesn't look worried about my threat that rings true; instead he looks happier than before.

"Good, cause now I know how serious you really are…even if it's a bit creepy. Now get some sleep, we're leaving tomorrow morning, bright and early." I grin evilly, leaning over to nip his ear as he pulls out a chocolate bar from his bedside table.

"But what if I'm not sleepy yet?" Mello snorts, but I continue to nip at his neck, biting, sucking and kissing at his beautiful and somewhat scarred flesh.

He moans into my touch, pulling at my shoulders, abandoning his addictive sweet for me without a second thought.

Just like I had abandoned the drugs for him, that life of poison and addiction—he was the only one for me—and finally I knew, that I was the only one for him.

* * *


End file.
